


Originals

by Dean_can_ride_my_impala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, I don't know how to tag this, I'm so sorry, It's All Gabriel's Fault, M/M, This Is STUPID, it just came to me, this is really weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dean_can_ride_my_impala/pseuds/Dean_can_ride_my_impala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel is tired of Dean and Cas skirting around each other. So, he's going to teach them a lesson</p><p> </p><p>This started after I read a fic and thought to myself  "I wonder what these fanfic characters would think of their real counterparts?"<br/>so this happened.</p><p>sorry</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> guys this is super weird. the POV is going to be weird, the pacing is weirder, and I think it' s going to be sad. but then again, this is supernatural, so of course sadness is a must.

Dean was aware his job was dangerous. He was reckless, but he wasn’t stupid. Every day he picked up his badge and gun from his bedside table, he knew there was a chance he might not make it home that night. His job gave little space for regret… but somehow, Dean couldn’t make himself walk those few steps that would take him to the dark-haired man typing away on his laptop.

“Staring again, Winchester?”

Dean jumped and turned to Gabriel, owner of his favorite coffee shop, Just Desserts. “Damn, Gabriel. Wear a bell or something.”

Gabriel grinned and handed him a steaming cup of coffee. “When are you going to man up and hit on the guy? I have it on good authority that he bats for your team.”

“I can’t just go and say hi… I’m not a creep,” Dean muttered.

Gabriel sighed. “Why are you so damn stubborn? This is going to hurt a little.”

“What?” Dean mumbled distractedly. Gabriel yanked on his arm to gain his attention, but as soon as Dean turned around to snap at him, he felt two fingers touch his forehead, and the whole world went black.

 

Castiel waited nervously by his car. This was a bad idea. This was a _horrible_ idea. He was going to be late to his class, and he had homework to pick up. What kind of educator was he?

He glanced at his Prius. It was brand new, taken out of the lot two weeks ago. There was no way a car like that could be broken again, and someone as skilled as Dean probably knew that. He squeezed his hand around the keys in his pocket, debating his options. But before he could do anything about it, the door to the little office at the entrance to the scrap yard opened and a short man with blond hair walked out.

“You must be Castiel. My name’s Gabriel, but you can call me Gabe,” the man said, popping a lollipop in his mouth.

“Nice to meet you,” Castiel mumbled. “But I… um, I thought Dean Winchester was going to fix my car.”

Gabriel smirked. “He is. He’s just running a little late. I’m just going to give it a look and see if any parts need to be ordered and whatnot.”

Castiel nodded and eyed the shorter man warily as he opened the hood of his car.

“So… how long have you been crushing on Winchester?”

“Huh?” Castiel gasped, cheeks turning red. “I’m… I’m not…”

“Dude, these things don’t break on their own,” Gabriel smirked, showing him a pair of black bands that Castiel had no idea did. Apparently, whatever they did was enough to make the car not start when he ripped them.

“Uh… I don’t know what those things are. The car was sold to me like this, I should probably head back there and—.”

“Dude, just admit you like him,” Gabriel snorted.

“I do _not_ —.”

“Fine, whatever. Have it your way,” Gabriel snapped, leaning in to touch Castiel’s forehead with his fingers. Before Castiel could ask him what he was doing, the world went dark.

 

Dean rolled his eyes at the shorter man. “I don’t do dudes, man. This ain’t that kind of place.”

The blond man wiggled is eyebrows. “Money is money, honey bee. Besides, I’m not asking you to let me fuck you.”

Dean grimaced at the crude wording. This was not the first time a man had tried to pay his way to his bed, and Dean had been tempted a couple of times, but Balthazar had convinced him he didn’t have to. Dean wasn’t gay, and he was attractive enough to encourage woman to attend the House, which they normally didn’t do. Balthazar was trying to attract the female clientele, which was hard since women weren’t known for paying for sex, but Dean somehow attracted them like bees to honey.

“What do you want, then?”

“I’ll give you five hundred, cash, if you sleep with that pretty Detective that’s been trying to bust this place.”

Dean felt his blood run cold and he grabbed the blond man by the neck of his shirt, pushing him against the wall. “How do you know about that?”

“I’m his partner,” the man grinned. “And brother. Cassie likes you, Dean. Why do you think he hasn’t come in here, guns blazing, and arresting everybody? And you obviously like him too.”

Dean stared at the man, unnerved. Yeah, so he’d had one too many fantasies about the blue-eyed officer that had arrested him on the streets two months ago… but that didn’t mean he wanted to fuck the man. Again, Dean wasn’t gay. Five hundred dollars was tempting (hell, he had done worst for less) but then again, this was not your regular customer. This was a fucking cop.

  
“Why are you the one asking me?” Dean asked, curious. “Cassie’s to chicken to ask me himself?”

“No, he has a little thing call ethic. Bothersome, really, but he seems to think that paying you for sex is taking advantage of you,” Gabriel shrugged. “He’s awfully stubborn, so I’m hoping you’re not so much.”

“Sorry, dude. Guys are off the menu,” Dean shrugged, letting go of the man and turning to leave.

“I swear to Dad…”

Dean felt a hand reach out to touch his forehead, and before he could swat it away, something pulled on his gut and he was falling.

 

Cas leaned against the wall, letting the ashes of his cigarette fall on the ground. From where he was sitting, he could see the entire Quad, specially the blond head he had imagined between his legs for a while.

“’Sup, dude.”

Cas jumped, glaring at Gabriel as he sat beside him. “What do you want?” he growled at the boy.

“Can’t I hang out here with you?” he shrugged easily.

“Aren’t you worried people are going to start talking?” Cas mocked. “Your scholarship would be revoked in a second if people even _thought_ you were doing drugs.”

“You don’t do drugs, Cassie,” Gabriel shrugged. “Luckily.”

“What do you want?” Cas repeated.

“Why don’t you talk to anybody?” Gabriel fired back, ignoring his questions. “There are plenty of people that could be your friends: Meg Masters, Ash Harvelle, Kevin Tran, Charlie Bradbury, Dean Winchester, Jo—.”

“Why would I want to hang out with nerds?” Cas laughed, trying to ignore the flutter of butterfly wings in his chest at the mention of Dean.

Gabriel stared at the sky in what appeared to be exasperation and sighed. “Maybe because you want to fuck Dean Winchester?”

Cas stared at him in shock. What the hell.

“Oh please, like you don’t think about it all fucking day,” Gabriel snapped. Apparently, Cas had spoken out loud. “Admit it.”

“I don’t like Dean Winchester,” Cas replied in auto mode.

“Fuck this,” Gabriel muttered. The last thing Cas was aware of were Gabriel’s fingers on his head.

 

Gabriel flitted through worlds faster than a human could blink. Why the hell were those two so fucking stubborn? It didn’t matter how many world he visited, in all of them, Dean and Cas had managed to meet. Firefighter Dean had saved actor Castiel from dying when the set caught fire. Doctor Novak had treated the bullet wound in Dean’s arm after the man had jumped in front of his employer, the President. Dean had hired a man for a secretary in Sandover after his girlfriend threw a bitch fit when the last secretary was prettier than her.  Dean insisted on visiting the same coffee shop to write his book simply because the coffee Cas made was simply divine. Dean had taken a dark-haired man home after the poor guy got too drunk at the Roadhouse, complaining of his wasted potential in accounting. The beautiful model Dean Winchester had to hide from the tabloids inside the shop of eccentric bee-keeper Castiel. Quarterback Dean liked picking on the weird kid with the strange eyes. And the gym teacher from Kennedy High School did _not_ have a crush on the English teacher.

Couldn’t they understand how much Fate had worked to bring them together? They were meant to be, they didn’t have any obstacles. And yet, they hesitated. If only they could see how much they deserved each other! The only world where the two idiots had admitted their feelings for each other had died off a long time ago… but maybe, Gabriel could push them in the right direction. All they needed was to see how strong their bond was.

And what better way than to start at the beginning?


	2. Dean Smith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what... the hell... did i just... write? please feel free to ignore this. omg what have I been smoking?

Dean had the biggest headache in his life. That stupid intern had probably hit him on the head with something… asshole; Dean was going to make sure the guy was fired immediately.  He opened his eyes, but the room was dark. What the hell? Wasn’t he in his office?

“Novak!” he barked, expecting his secretary to rush into the room and turn on the lights or something. Instead, he heard a low groan next to him and an arm fell on his stomach. He was on his feet faster that you could say _interest rate_.

“So you’re finally awake.”

Dean turned towards the voice, his eyes adjusting to the dark. He was in a movie theater, the blank screen on the wall providing little lightning. Sitting on the first row, facing away from the screen, was the intern…Milton, right? Gabriel Milton. Another low groan, this time from his right, made him jump.

He turned…. And froze.

“Pretty freaky, huh?”

He jumped in his seat again, and his eyes fell on his secretary… except this Novak was in his teens and was dressed like one of those punk kids that liked to skate in the park while he ran.

“You’re not Novak,” Dean mumbled.

The guy cocked his head. “You’re supposed to be Dean? Huh, you don’t look to shabby in a suit.”

“Mr. Smith?”

Dean—hopefully for the last fucking time—jumped, and turned his sight to the seat next to him. Novak, the real Novak, was seated next to him, dressed in his usual rumpled suit and worn shoes.

“Not that this isn’t funny as hell,” Milton called out. “But I do have something I need to do.” The short man clapped his hands, and the room was suddenly illuminated. Dean felt his jaw drop as discomforted groans filled the room, and his eyes fell on other Novaks… and was that himself?

There were twenty-two other bodies in the theater, not counting himself, Novak, or the intern.

“What the _fuck_ is going on here?” one of his many lookalikes shouted, and Dean noticed with distaste that the man was dressed in dirty jeans and an oil-stained shirt.

“Calm down, Dean-o,” Milton grinned. “I’m going to explain everything.”

“Well, you better start, or I’ll put a bullet through your head,” one of Novak’s twins growled, lifting his shirt to reveal a guns trapped to his belt.

“Like you would shoot your brother,” Milton scoffed. “Even if I’m not your brother… I still looked like him.”

“Why are there eleven of me?” Dean asked, ignoring the set of blue and green eyes that fell on him.

“Always straight to the point, Dean,” Milton smiled. “That’s why you’re such a good businessman. Fine, I’ll talk. You are all from different dimension. This place is a… _pothole_ … you might say, that I have created.”

“ _You’ve_ created?” asked a blue-eyed man dressed in khaki pants and _were those penny loafers_?

“Yes, Cassie. I created it,” Milton smirked. “I _am_ a trickster God, after all.”

“Bullshit,” called a younger version of Dean. The boy was wearing a blue and gray letter jacket with a football stitched to the side and the name _Winchester_ on the back. “You’re a fucking choir boy.”

“In your dimension, maybe,” Milton shrugged. “But in reality, there are millions of versions of me, just like there are millions of you. For example, you were born middle class, your mom is alive, your dad is a business owner, and your little brother does drugs. And then there is this Dean over here,” Milton’s eyes turned to him and the man grinned. “Dean Smith. His parents died when he was five and he was adopted by Bobby and Ellen Singer. He doesn’t even know he has a little brother named Sam.”

“What?” The words fell from his mouth, heavy as lead. _Adopted? Little brother? What?_

The man shrugged again, and turned towards his younger version. “You’re just a copy of the original Dean, but that doesn’t make you any less real.”

“Enough with the weird science shit,” the young Novak with the black leather boots piped in. “Why are were here, Gabriel?”

“Glad you ask, Cas,” Milton smiled. “You are all here because you are all stupid as fuck.”

“Please, tell us how you feel,” one of the other Dean’s muttered.

“I’m here because all of you are so intent on stopping Fate… it’s actual ludicrous,” Gabriel laughed. “I’m not going to tell you all my little secrets just yet, though. ButI _am_ going to explain one of life’s many secrets: time doesn’t go in a straight line. In fact, it branches out into many little lines and spirals and spheres and shit. See, every time you make a choice, you create a new time line. For example, you’re walking down the street and reach a crossroad. You turn right. But what if you turn left? Well, guess what? There’s a whole other dimension where you _did_ turn left, and it was created simply because you made a choice. Of course, many of these little dimensions collapse on their own, too small to sustain the weight of reality. But all of you… you are the strong ones, the ones that managed to keep on existing. Now, don’t you think it’s strange that in every dimension, you know each other? That every choice you made—for there were _billions_ —still led you guys to find each other?”

Dean kept his eyes on the intern, trying hard to keep them away from his secretary. Yeah, he had noticed that the guy was pretty hot, and his eyes were goddamn beautiful… but to say that they were… were what? Meant to meet? Please.

Gabriel sighed and rubbed his face. When he opened his eyes again, he looked _so tired_ … “You know, God gives free will to all. It was his very first command. Fate, Destiny… they give a little push here and there, but they don’t control your life. Except in one dimension. In that one dimension, every little being out there wanted to get their hands on your fates. In fact, they were planned eons before you were born, every little action perfectly choreographed to reach an end. And yet, they were the only ones who took advantage of what little free will they had. They tore up Fate’s book, they punched Destiny in the face, and they said ‘Fuck You!’ to God and all of creation. But ignore that; that’s not why you’re here.” A wide smirk filled Gabriel’s face again and he took out a lollipop from his pants, peeled the wrapper off, and popped it in his mouth. “So, why don’t we do a roll call?”

“We’re all Dean and Castiel, dumbass,” a Dean wearing a red track suit snapped. “Let us go home.”

“Not yet,” Gabriel smirked. “First, we have to watch a little movie.”


	3. Childhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long! I'm currently working on Learning From the Best, so this I'm not going to be updating this one regularly. I do appreciate all the kudos and the comments, so I decided to give you guys a treat and post a new chapter. thanks!!!! and enjoy!

Dean was freaking out. He tried not to show it, but how could you stay calm when there were eleven of you standing around? He tried to concentrate on Gabe’s voice.

“I’m going to show you your lives, in another dimension,” Gabriel said. “In the original dimension, as a matter of fact. This is the one that spewed all the others. You guys died off a long time ago, but the dimension is still going, so it won’t be hard to retrieve the memories.”

“You still haven’t explain what we’re doing here,” said the Cas with the gun. Dean tried not to stare too much. This Cas was nothing like the one he knew. Firstly, he was about fifteen years older. Secondly, he stood with a confidence that the shy teenager had never mastered. Dean couldn’t help but think that Cas would grow up into a fine piece of ass… _watch it, Winchester,_ he chided.

“Yeah, what the hell do you want with us?” Dean asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“You’ll see,” Gabriel smiled. “Now take a seat. I have popcorn, licorice… hell, I have every piece of candy you can imagine.”

“We aren’t going to watch this stupid movie of yours,” said the Dean wearing the monkey suit. Shit, even his hair was stupid, parted at the side.

“Yes you are,” Gabriel growled, and the smile was lost. “Because if you take a step out of this room before I tell you to, you will cease to exist.” He stared at all of them, his eyes narrowed. Suddenly, the smirk was back, and he leaned back on the comfortable reclining seats. “Now hush, the movie is starting.”

Dean leaned back on the chair, ignoring the way Cas sat beside him and leaned in towards him when an older Dean sat to his right. The other Dean was dressed in a black suit, though it wasn’t as impeccably clean and ironed as the other douchebag’s. He was also wearing an ear piece on his right hand, and when he leaned back to get comfortable, Dean noticed the gun strapped to his side. He gulped, understanding Cas’ discomfort, and turned to the screen.

 

He was a little kid. Happy, like any other. Mary was beautiful. Dean was hit with his mother’s face, enlarged in the wide screen, and he couldn’t help but smile. The early memories were skimmed through: this Dean had broken his arm in the monkey arms when he was three. He had cried when his mom was taken to the hospital to have Sam. He jumped excitedly when his Dad brought home the baby, telling him it was his new baby brother, Samuel.

Dean smiled. He missed Sammy. Yeah, his brother was still back home, probably watching TV right now… but it really wasn’t his baby brother. Ever since he had started dating that slut Ruby, he had changed. And then Gabriel had said that thing about drugs… he really hoped Sammy wasn’t experimenting with that shit, though he wouldn’t put it pass Ruby to be hooked on some kind of shit.

The clip show of images slowed down, until they stopped at a memory of four-year-old Dean waking up in the middle of the night, coughing. Dean cursed under his breath; he knew this memory.

“Don’t go out there,” he muttered, but the kid in the screen ignored him, standing up and running to the hall. There was a bright, warm light at the end of the hall, and he could hear his Dad’s voice yelling. He took a hesitant step forward, but stopped when his Dad came running out of the room, a bundle of blankets in his arms.

“Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don’t look back,” he yelled, handing him the crying form of his brother. “Now, Dean, go!”

Dean ran outside, his dad’s words at his heels, and he could feel the flames lapping at his feet. He shoved the door open with one hand, and ran to the yard. He turned around and his eyes fell on the fire roaring inside his little brother’s room. The flames lapped at the walls, eating it hungrily. He felt strong arms wrap around him, and his father hauled him towards the car, taking cover as the flames made the glass explode.

The firefighters arrived quickly after, fighting to keep the flames at bay, and the Winchester boys sat on the hood of their car, staring into the night.

 

Dean was still the same age, but he was completely different now. His wavy hair had been cropped short and his face was no longer set on the default smile. He sat on the hood of his Dad’s car, little Sammy squirming on his lap as his Dad talked to an older man on the side of the road.

“Shh, Sammy, it’s fine,” Dean whispered, rocking his baby brother. “I know it hurts. Dad’s going to buy medicine soon.” Dean gingerly felt his brother’s gums, feeling the little tooth poking out, and hugged his baby brother harder. His Dad nodded at the man and took a large packet from his before turning back to his boys.

“I got it,” he said, showing Dean the gun inside the brown bag. “We’re going to go to Mississippi now, okay?”

“Why?” Dean asked, trying to keep his brother still. “I want to see Mommy. Why isn’t she home yet?”

His Dad drew in a quick breath. “I told you. Mom isn’t coming home.”

“Why not?” Dean insisted. “I’m hungry. I want Mom’s pie. And Sammy won’t stop crying. And I don’t like my hair. Why did you cut it? I don’t like it.” Dean was working himself to a tantrum, he could feel it, but he didn’t care. Sammy let out a sharp cry and Dean snapped. “Sammy! Stop crying!”

“Dean!” his Dad yelled, and Dean stilled. “Stop fucking whining! I can’t deal with this okay? Your Mom is dead, alright? _Dead!_ And she isn’t coming back, so you gotta man up and help me out because there’s a monster out there that killed her.”

“M-monster?” Dean whispered, eyes wide.

“Yes, Dean, monster,” John spat. “Like the ones under your bed. They killed your Mom, and know we have to kill that thing, okay Dean? Are you going to help me out?”

Dean didn’t want to help out. He wanted his mother, he wanted Sam to stop crying, and most of all, he wanted his Dad to stop screaming at him. But he knew wasn’t going to get that, because the monsters had took his mother. “Yes, Dad.”

“Good. Get in the car, and for god’s sake, try to quiet down your brother.”

 

Dean found out more about monsters because of the books and the strange men. His Dad brought home strange, old books that smelled, and he would sometimes forger to put them up. Dean had started to make sense of a couple of words, remembering how his old teacher had helped him string letters together to make words. And sometimes, when his Dad was being kind, he would let Dean stay and listen as the strange men talked about vampires and werewolves and witches and other monsters.

Some of them would show Dean pictures that gave him nightmares, but he pretended he didn’t mind. Others would teach Dean how to use a gun and a knife. His favorite was the short man who thought him how to open doors with a little pin. As Sam grew older, his Dad would leave them alone more, and the flow of men stopped.

He would leave for days, and when Dean ran through the money, he would take the skills he learned from the strange men and steal food. Sammy always got the good stuff, because his Dad always said to take care of Sammy, so Dean obeyed. There were times he couldn’t get any food at all, so he would let Sammy take his serving, so the little boy wouldn’t go hungry. It was hard work, but Dean didn’t mind, especially when Sam said his first word ( _Dean!_ ) or took his first steps towards his older brother.

Dean watched all these memories, so strange and different from his own, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful that his Dad hadn’t reacted the same way after his mother had died. Yeah, the man wasn’t the most attentive of fathers, but he was _there_. This kid on the screen couldn’t even last a week in the same school! Dean had never had to take care of Sam as much as this Dean did. And not only Sam, but Dad also. It was Dean who would cook for him. It was Dean that would make sure he got to bed okay after one too many drinks. It was Dean who reminded him to clean his guns, and who kept the maids away from the hotel rooms, and the one who had lied so effortlessly to the pretty cashier lady so that she wouldn’t call child services on John.

In spite of himself, he found himself wondering when he would meet Castiel. He was really curious to know how the shy and awkward boy fit in this world full of monsters and demons.


End file.
